


Heartsong

by badskippy



Series: Bagginshield One-Offs [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night before Bilbo leaves The Shire for good, he remembers another time and the man who's song he still carries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartsong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleblackdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackdog/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Made and Remade the Necklace of Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/631131) by [pibroch (littleblackdog)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackdog/pseuds/pibroch). 



> IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE FABULOUS AND EXTRAORDINARY WORK THIS IS INSPIRED BY, THEN I SUGGEST THAT YOU DO!!
> 
> did not use a beta for this - all mistakes are mine - sorry.

           

* * *

 

 

            Frodo wandered the hall lost in thought.  He cradled his left wrist in his right hand and absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over his naked, bare flesh.  He just had to think of something, _anything_ to help.

            As he turned the corner he swore he heard something.  He looked in the parlour and found his uncle sitting in his favorite chair, quietly humming to himself and staring into the crackling fire, clearly lost in thought himself.

            “Are you alright Uncle?”

            A moment’s silence and then Bilbo blinked and gave a tiny shake of his head.  “Yes. Yes, my boy.”  He noticed the pensive look on Frodo’s face.  “I think the better question would be if you are all right.”

            “I'm fine.  I'm just –”

            “Yes?  Go on.”

            “Well, I was just thinking of Sam.”

            “What about him?”

            “Well, --” Frodo bit his lip for a minute to gather his thoughts as he took the chair on the opposite side of the fire.  “It has never bothered me, that I don’t have a Mark.  I mean, I look at those with them and they get all calf-eyed and all that.  But I worry for Sam.”

            “Does he not have one either?”  Bilbo was intrigued because he could have sworn he had seen Samwise with a bright yellow strip of cotton tied around his left wrist.

            “No, he does,” Frodo said quickly.  “But she doesn’t have a Mark herself.”

            “Oh, I see.”

            “Sam is so wound up over it, but he won’t even talk to Rosie about it.”

            “I take it that is the young lass of his mark?”

            “Yes.  She is friendly and kind to Sam and I think she really likes him.  But I fear that she thinks Sam’s Mark isn’t for her because he hasn’t said anything, and I know he's afraid to say anything because he believes that she won’t want him and she is only being nice to him.”

            Bilbo thought about that one.  Fear of exposing one’s mark to ridicule and rejection is something he could easily relate to.  He almost laughed at loud when he thought back on it really.

            “I sometimes wonder,” Frodo said, once again holding his left wrist in his right hand and staring at the fire as Bilbo had.  “That it would be better if we were like Men and didn’t have Marks.  Might be easier.  I wonder what Elves and Dwarfs have?”

            “Heartsongs,”  Bilbo whispered, lost in memory.

            “What?”

            “Oh, sorry.  Uhm, I am not sure about Elves – I never asked them about it.  But Dwarfs have what they call Heartsongs.  A Song and a voice that comes to them in their dreams and a Dwarf knows the person they are meant for when they hear that person sing.”

            “That sounds beautiful,” Frodo stated.

            “It is, my boy,” Bilbo said a little sadly.  “I also know that when the person of their Heartsong dies, the song and voice die with them, leaving the other person with nothing but silence.”

            Frodo didn’t say anything but his heart raced at the idea and devastation of a silence that would haunt someone’s dreams after a loss like that. 

            “Did you find out about Heartsongs on your adventure to Erebor?”  Frodo asked once his heart had stopped galloping.

            Bilbo used every bit of strength to stay calm and give a small smile to Frodo.  “Yes.  I, uhm, heard about them from my dwarf-friends.”

            The two Hobbits sat for a few minutes before finally, Bilbo spoke up.  “Tell this to Sam.  While it is terrible to be rejected, there is nothing worse than going through life without knowing, without trying.  He would be better off to be rejected outright, then to go on with life and waste what little time he may have with Rosie.  Life is dreadfully painful to suffer without love.”

            Frodo nodded.  “Thank you, Uncle Bilbo.  I will tell him.”

            Frodo stood and walked out, leaving Bilbo alone again to stare at the fire.  Bringing his own left wrist up, Bilbo slowly untied the bright green cotton strip to expose the bare skin beneath.  He held either end of the cotton strip in each hand and pulled it straight so that he could see the Dwarven Runes he himself had stitched there – the same runes that used to grace his left wrist.

            If anyone had told him when he was fifty, that his Mark would fade, he would have laughed them out Bag End.   If they had told him that he would have a Dwarf Heartsong, he would have laughed them out of The Shire. 

            Finding Thorin Oakenshield was his heart’s Mark was more than a little surprising.  But to find that he was Thorin’s Heartsong was even more so.  He could still remember that beautiful morning in Boern’s garden.  The sun shining and Thorin so handsome and strong in his arms, their lips finally meeting, and as their kiss deepened, it just seemed, so right, so perfect.  It was more than fate, it was destiny. 

            They didn’t know what life held for them, but neither wanted to let the other go.  They held on tight to their love, swearing to protect that which was precious to them both.  Even when the Arkenstone came between them, Bilbo knew, if he could just rid Thorin of the Dragon’s Curse, the Gold Madness, things would be all right.  They could be righted and their love would go on.  He knew as sure as a song in his dreams or a mark on his wrist.

            But when the battle was over and Bilbo sat sobbing at Thorin’s side, their regrets and forgiveness given quickly, freely and without hesitation, Bilbo knew their future was not to be.  The only comfort he took was that his Mark would always be there.  A small part of Thorin that Bilbo could take with him to his own grave.  In fact, Bilbo was so crushed at Thorin’s passing that he had taken his old plain, green cloth and placed it with Thorin in his tomb.  He would wear his Mark openly and proudly and damn be the comments and stares of others.

            But even that was not meant to be.

            Bilbo had been considered odd for having a Dwarf’s Mark to begin with.  No one in The Shire had ever seen a Hobbit with Dwarf runes on their wrist before.  And certainly no one had ever lost their Mark; the Mark of a widower was just as crisp and clear as the Mark of a love-struck youngling.  Everyone knew that.

            However, within days of Thorin’s death, Bilbo’s mark had slowly begun to fade.  It was just itchy at first; Bilbo paid it no mind.  Over a week later, Bilbo noticed that his Mark looked lighter.  He thought it was a trick of his mind, battle fatigue, possibly a visual issue related to his being hit in the head.  Certainly, it couldn’t be fading.  Yet, within days the Mark was only a pale pink from its form deep red.  Bilbo cried and wailed at the Gods but to no avail.  His Mark, all he had that truly proved Thorin was his and he was Thorin’s was fading away.  Just a fortnight after the battle, his wrist was bare as the other one.

            But while his Mark was going, something extraordinary was happening instead. 

            Thorin had played his Heartsong on his harp and Bilbo, not realizing at the time what it was, had picked up the tune and hummed absentmindedly.  It had pulled itself out of Bilbo, out of his very soul it seemed.  He had thought it was just a song his mother had hummed when he was young and he remembered vaguely from childhood.  But no, it had truly come from another place within him and was one more piece of the puzzle that bound Thorin and him together beyond a physical level.

            As Bilbo cried over his fading Mark, he began to hear the chords of Thorin’s Heartsong.  _Just a memory.  That’s all it is, that’s all I have now._ But it was in his dreams as well and instead of fading away to silence, over the years it only got stronger.  He would sometimes hear it on the wind when the breeze was warm and caressing.  He would hear it in the trickling water when the creek skipped over the rocks.  And, when he was alone by the fire, he heard it loud and clear and he could not help but hum along with it just as he was doing before Frodo walked into the parlour.

            In fact, on nights like this – clear and near cloudless – Bilbo could feel that Thorin was close to him.  When he looked to the hearth, Bilbo could see Thorin standing by the fire, leaning on the mantle, looking down at him with much love and affection on his face.

            “Hello, Thorin,” Bilbo whispered.

            ' _Sing, Bilbo.  Sing for me, my love'_

Bilbo smiled and began to sing.  Weaving a necklace of songs for his one true love.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Although not specially tied to this story, a reader COULD, if they wanted to, continue on to my Divine Series after this story.
> 
> Because, in case some didn't get it, at the end, Thorin isn't a mere figment of Bilbo's imagination .......


End file.
